


Orders, Games, and Girl-Pleasing

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/F, Femslash, Orders, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Season/Series 02, Slash, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Um. Er. Voyeurism, talking, and power dynamics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orders, Games, and Girl-Pleasing

Walking into a quiet by-the-hour second-class stateroom on Cloud Nine one night and I found the president sprawled in a chair, eyes heavy-lidded and shoes kicked off. The air was cool and quiet, but smelled a little bit of incense and perfume, sweet and overwhelming. The lights were dimmed, too, and I was thinking that the president had a headache, maybe.

"Sir," I said quietly, touching her on the shoulder. Her lips curved into a smile and her eyes half-opened. Sleepy and intense, she looked at me. "Are you all right?"

"Long day," she said in a hoarse ache of a voice. "Politics is a stupid game, Captain. Don't let anyone tell you different."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir," I said, standing in front of her uncertainly. She'd asked me to come alone, and I had. Her whole posture was freaking me out, too -- I thought the cancer was better, but here was Roslin, slumped in a chair like she was about to fall over from exhaustion.

She tilted her head back, yawning and twisting and making little noises that were half weariness and half pleasure. I didn't say anything; I didn't have anything to say. Roslin hadn't given me any clues to what she wanted from me, and I never could guess with her.

"Relax, Captain," she said. "I'm not going to eat you. In fact, there are some leftovers from today's Quorum meeting if you'd like."

I would have begged off, but the leftovers looked like fruit -- and were, bananas and blueberries, thank gods -- and I dove in, sitting down on the double bed they were set on.

"Thanks," I said. "So, you got some special mission for me? Maybe I could whack Baltar for you, huh?"

"Maybe some other time," Roslin said, head resting on her shoulder as if she didn't have the strength to lift it.

I grinned at her, but wow, she looked like death warmed over and the food was pretty good, so I folded my legs and devoured as much as I could. Still no idea why Roslin was feeding me in a half-dark room, but _bananas_. Besides, it didn't sound like she was going to order me to kill anyone today, so bonus.

"They let me use the stateroom after all-day sessions," Roslin said, tracing patterns on her trousers. "I think the theory is that I deserve a nap on a real bed, but I've gotten used to my presidential couch."

For some reason, that made me bounce up and down on the mattress. "It's not bad quality," I said. "You should use it -- you look like shit, sir."

She twisted hair around her finger, looking at me with a sudden quiet intensity that was really sort of unsettling. And then her tongue darted out and licked her lips and I just found myself staring.

Creepy. Hot. Definitely interesting.

"Captain Thrace?" she asked, eyes still on me.

"Yes, sir?" I said, swallowing.

"Take your shirt off," she ordered casually, as if she were asking me to tell her how conditions on the Galactica were, or that I was welcome to take a nap on her borrowed bed, or how I was doing. "Please."

There were a good number of reasons why I should have stood up, told my president that I was flattered but she was a perv, and left. Including me not liking other women. Instead, pinned to that bed by Roslin's quiet leer, I found myself pulling my shirt over my head and dropping it.

"Very nice," she murmured. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No, sir, but..." fuh-rack, this was kind of twisted. If the old man had done this to me, I would have slugged him, but Roslin had this whole sleepy, half-smiling intensity that had me hypnotized.

"Relax," she said. "Just don't worry about it. I'm not going to touch you, and if you want to leave, you can go."

I shivered. "Okay, um...but. I don't understand," I said.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, spine curving as she whimpered. "Captain Thrace, do I have to repeat myself?" she asked. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to do anything to you. If you want to leave, you can. Now, please, clear that plate off the bed and arrange yourself more comfortably."

I did it, and then threw myself against the pillows, crossing my legs and arms. So the president wanted some kind of show, didn't want to explain why me, and I should have been out of there at the word shirt. But instead I was leaning against the bed and glaring at Roslin petulantly.

She looked at me calmly and undid the first two buttons of her blouse. "Do you think you're doing me a favor?" Roslin asked. "That I couldn't find someone who could do what you're doing without the attitude?"

"So why didn't you?" I said.

"Why'd you take your top off?" she countered.

I leaned back further into the pillows and uncrossed my arms. Roslin snorted softly.

"You can do better than that, Captain," she said. "I'm not impressed with the attitude."

"Why don't you join me up here and show me what you want me to do?" I snapped. "I'm not a mind reader, sir."

In response, Roslin leaned back and drew one of her own fingers over her lips, eyes fluttering shut again. "Then listen to me, and maybe I'll show you just how good it can be for you if you do what I say and stop fighting me, Captain."

I watched her legs fall open as she slid lower into the chair. The look was pure lust and a challenge, one that twisted her mouth into a smile that was superiority and desire. And I wanted to bite through her lips, pull myself into her lap and show her how good it would be.

Slowly, I ran my fingers over my mouth before letting them trail off. And then I licked my own lips, biting on the lower one suggestively.

"I'm not fighting," I lied. "I just don't know the game, sir."

"Mmm-hmm," Roslin replied, toying with the tip of a finger. "Unlace your boots and take your socks off, too. Slowly."

I didn't let my eyes leave hers as I drew my knee up and untied the damn boots one by one, breathing slowly as she kept her expression neutral and even.

"Don't just drop them on the floor," she told me when I pulled off my other sock and wiggled my toes. "Let's see a little of that famous military discipline, Captain."

"You picked the wrong girl for that," I said, getting out of the bed anyway and setting the boots next to each other. "I'm not an obedient little solider."

"Of course not," Roslin said, her voice hued with amusement. "Don't you dare get back in that bed with your pants on."

"Yes, sir," I taunted, dropping trou. Okay, so our bossy president was bossy in the bedroom. I wanted to point that out, say, "next?" and get this over with.

Roslin began tracing patterns on the back of her hand, as if she weren't in the least bit interested to see me standing there in my skivvies. When she did look at me, her smile was vague and crooked and her eyebrow half-raised.

"What?"

"Does it always get you what you want, the attitude?" she asked idly. "Or is it just a way to hide what you're really after?"

I snorted and sat down on the bed again. Roslin rolled her eyes expressively and then crossed her ankles.

"I could enjoy frakking you," she said in a voice that was hoarse and warm and real. "You're graceful and attractive and at your best, you want to please without being sycophantic. I would very much like to watch you arch up when you came, that nice honey-tinted skin of yours slick and spicy-smelling. I would like to put my hands all over you, and watch you beg for more, but I can't do that if you persist in thinking this is some kind of power trip."

My mouth was dry. Very slowly, I edged back onto the bed, laid back against the pillows, and met Roslin's eyes mutely.

And nodded.

"Good girl," Roslin said. "Where would you like me to touch you first?"

Part of me wanted to spread my legs as far as they would go and wait, but that wasn't how we were playing this. Instead, breathing harder, I put my hand on my mouth and then over my jaw, the tickle of my own fingers feeling like someone else's.

Fingertips drifting over my face, I paused when my thumb crossed my mouth again, pulling it into my mouth and biting down, my other hand stroking my throat as I sank farther into the pillows.

"Pretty," she whispered. "Lower."

I dragged my wet thumb over my sternum, sucking on my lower lip, and pulled at one of my bra straps.

"It'd be better if you were doing this," I said.

"Yes, it would be," Roslin said, her hand resting on her knee. "What next?"

I arched up and undid the hooks on my bra, one by one. My skin was aching and tingling and I wanted her to touch me, to pull a nipple between her teeth and suck hard.

"What next?" she reminded me.

"Your mouth," I said. "Licking."

"Where?"

I cupped both breasts, offering them up to her with a lascivious smirk on my face. Roslin's eyelashes fluttered and when she breathed out, it was ragged and needy.

"I knew you could be good at this," whispered Laura, undoing another button on her blouse but not making a move.

Gods frak damn, I was getting all hot and bothered. There was a distinct throb between my legs and this thick, needy sensation in my head.

"I want to be good," I heard myself say. "I want to be better."

"Then pull one of your knees up," was Roslin's answer as she drew her hand through her hair. "I want to watch you put your hands where I would put them. Where you'd want me to put them."

I couldn't help it; I whimpered and did what she asked, resting a hand on my knee and letting the other leg splay out.

"Like this?" I asked.

"You tell me."

"Just like this," I said, drawing my hand up my thigh. "It would be good. Just like this, with your hands on me and your lips."

Laura nodded, her hands resting higher up on her thighs. "I could make you come again and again," she said, the growl in her voice predatory and sweet. "Until you begged me to stop."

"I need to get rid of these frakking things," I said, tugging at my underwear.

"Not yet," she replied, steel-sounding.

"Please," I said, running my hand over the fabric. "I wanna touch me like you would."

Roslin pressed her lips together and shook her head. I almost cried, I was so. I don't know. Needing, wanting, and she wasn't even talking now, that voice of hers wrapping itself around my brain and making it seem good to want to touch myself for her.

"Tell me," I said, sounding pitifully close to begging. "Talk to me."

"I want to eat you up," she said, fingernails digging into the material of her trousers. "Like the big bad wolf, I want to lick my lips and taste you until I'm satisfied. Would you like that?"

The noise in my throat was a whine, pure and simple. My hips bucked up, pleading for me.

"You'd like that," she murmured, fingertips resting on her mouth. "What else would you like me to do? Would you like to please me, Captain Thrace?"

"So much," I choked out, the throb in my clit spreading. If I didn't get to touch myself soon, I was going to lose it.

"Poor Starbuck," Roslin teased with a hum of sexy malice. "You haven't even laid a finger on yourself for me and you're practically writhing."

"Anything," I said. "Please, sir..."

Her eyes had half-closed again and she leaned back, way back, the tips of her fingers brushing the tops of her thighs.

"You can take those off if you do something for me, Captain," she said softly. "Would you do that?"

"Yes," I said. "Anything. Yes."

"If you feel around on your left, there's an...item," she said, a smile curving her lips. "I want to watch you use it. I want you to tell me what you want while you do. No hands, no holding back."

I couldn't help it; I grinned at Roslin. "Wouldn't have pegged you for a toy girl, _sir,_ " I said, feeling around and finding a very discreet-looking vibrator of the personal massager variety.

"That's not a toy -- that's the official murder-preventative of this administration," Roslin answered, the sultry quiet domination dissolving just a little as she grinned back. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Mmm-hmm," I said, leaning back and ridding myself of the underwear. That was much, much better. "Let me just... okay, better."

Her eyes stayed deceptively closed and she tilted her head back. "Captain Thrace."

"No, really," I said, settling the humming object against my clit. "It's been a while. We grunts are out of batteries, so it's been all-natural in my rack for some time now. This feels, oh, this feels good. And I thought I was pretty wet already."

It would have taken about two rubs of my finger with the vibrator to set me off, but she liked the slow build, the way I was already moving to a rhythm as I worked it against me. Her approval had me flushing, hips straining against that sweet pressure.

"I can't hear you," she said mildly.

"Don't know what to say," I started. "I can't talk like you."

"I don't need you to do me," she answered. "Tell me what you're feeling. What you want. Can you do that for me? Just start by telling me how good it feels."

"It feels good, like I'm sweaty and if you let me touch with a finger, I'd be frakking coming already," I started. "You'd be driving me crazy, though. Getting me so close and then backing off until I was begging, calling out and using your name. The slow burn's what gets you off."

Her tone was warmer, tickling over my heating skin like she'd blown on it. "Really."

"Frak yeah," I said, my hips pumping and my free hand circling my breast. She hadn't forbidden _that_ at least. "You like control. And you'd be touching me everywhere, all my hot spots, until I started talking real dirty, telling you I want your tongue on my clit, that I want to wrap my legs around your head and beg. Even then, you might not give it to me."

It was getting harder to talk or to concentrate because I was so close, all I wanted to do was press the damn vibrator against my clit, move to just the right spot and come, but this was Laura's game and she wanted me to keep talking.

"Besides," I said. "What about you? Are you enjoying yourself, watching me frak myself for you? Do you want me to crawl over to you and finish the job, all hot and sweaty and satisfied? I would, you know. Part those knees and uncover all that mess you're hiding and strip you bare with my tongue."

The idea was even hotter than Roslin finishing me off, and I whimpered, thinking of my sweaty skin slippery against hers, those heavy-lidded eyes of hers widening as I gripped her hips and buried my mouth in her.

"I'm nicer than you," I said, feeling that last swell of hot ready to push me over. "I won't make you tell me how much you want me to frak you, sir. I know you like to watch, and it would be pretty, watching me take you like that. Oh, like that, oh like that like that."

"That's my sweet girl," she whispered. "Feels so good, doesn't it?"

"Oh yes," I said, the first tremors shading through me. "Oh, yes, yes yes gods frak..."

She was staring at me like I was dinner, and I wanted to be, wanted to make her happy, make her fall on me and frak me until I was a puddle of sex goo. I kept coming, forgetting her orders about my fingers and using one with the vibrator to bring myself off again, fast and furious and moaning the whole time.

"Very, very nice," she said as I switched the 'item' off and settled, gasping, against the mattress again.

"You gonna come play now?" I asked, feeling swollen, satisfied, and extremely curious about just what Roslin would let me see. "I'd like to please you again, sir."

"Remember what I said?" she asked. "I'm not going to lay a finger on you, Captain Thrace."

I pulled myself up into a half-sitting position. "What?" I asked.

"I promised I wouldn't touch you and I'm a woman of my word," Roslin said, eyes alight with some unholy mischief.

"Oh," I said. "Well, I never said I wouldn't touch you."

She smiled, and the weariness seemed almost gone. "Would you like to please me, Captain Thrace?"

There was only one answer for that, and I slid out of the bed, naked and sweaty and wanting to frak her silly with every last teensy tiny bit of me, and said it.

"Please."


End file.
